Maybe
by xmystorytime
Summary: One-shot. '“You've been the star of the show ever since you arrived, you never needed me at all. Go throw your pie at the clown and bow to your audience.”' The war's over. Lavi's leaving. Allen says goodbye.


**Maybe**

_Written by xmystorytime._

**Warnings: **N/A

**Ships: **Nada. Lavi/Allen friendship FTW.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own this show. Is that not obvious?**  
**

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Before the day that his world had wanted to stop moving it had been an ordinary room, a small room; it had been the room with the broken bed and stained glass, discarded and forgotten. Then they'd ruined it, by turning it into a room full of unspoken regrets.

Two figures occupied it, chance having brought them together. One, a red-head, leant casually against the wall with his arms crossed and eyes shut. The other, hair scarred white, could be found sat opposite on the floor, leaning back against a grimy wall and studying the ceiling intently.

Neither wanted to break the silence.

In the end, it turned out to be the younger who was brave enough to do so.

"You're leaving then," it was a statement more than a question. The red-head's eyes slowly opened, a tiny sigh escaping thin lips.

"Yeah. Gramps wants us to go to some country where there's talk of a civil war soon; I guess a Bookman's job never ends," he tried to laugh, to show that this - _partingfarewellgoodbye_ - wasn't affecting him, but the laugh sounded false even to his own ears.

"Will we meet again, Lavi?"

It was a man's voice that asked the question; a teenager, with the maturity of one so much older than he. Lavi tilted his head forward to look into a man's eyes; eyes that already knew the answer and were just waiting to hear it confirmed. They never would.

After all, Lavi had always answered those eyes with lies and he would continue to do so.

"Of course Allen! You can't get rid of me that easily," he smiled mischievously, lying through his teeth. But maybe that was okay, because the smile he got back was a lie too. Their relationship had been built on – _fightingsweatdeath –_ lies and here, in this insignificant room, they were ending it on lies too.

It was odd, if he thought about it, to have such a strong tie with someone who smiled fake smiles and had never laughed until he cried, but that was probably why they'd clicked. Lavi was a person who gave fake laughs and told fake stories, so maybe, between them, they'd managed to create something real.

"We wouldn't have won the war without you, you and Bookman," Allen said, never moving from his position. "_I _never would have made it this far without you. Thank you."

"I don't know what you're on about Allen," Lavi pulled a face. "You've been the star of the show ever since you arrived, you never needed me at all. Go throw your pie at the clown and bow to your audience."

"I wish I could," Allen replied, softer, like he was thinking about what could have been. Lavi sometimes thought of that too, when the nights grew too long and the silence grew too much to bear. "Maybe I will, one day." But that was a lie, because Allen had always been bound by something – _historypromiseslove –_ and a new thread was spun to fill their spider's web.

Once more silence fell between them, soaking the room with too many words that needed to be said, but proving that neither had the will to speak them out loud. But maybe that, too, was okay because by looking the other in the eyes, Lavi suspected Allen knew what he – _wantedcouldn'tmeant_ – to say.

And vise versa.

"It was a fun ride," he broke the silence this time, unwilling to leave it be. He wasn't sure why, perhaps he was trying desperately to stop this from finishing, to keep the charade going just that little bit longer.

"It was," Allen agreed quietly. He then stood and Lavi knew it was over. Moving out of his own position, they slowly migrated to the centre of the room, where Allen held out his pale, human hand. "I guess... this is goodbye, until we meet again."

Lavi didn't hesitate as he reached out to shake the hand, unable to stop him squeezing tightly to prove the connection was real, but it was okay because he was being squeezed tightly back. Then they parted and it was like a line had been drawn, a line they could no longer cross. It was like a chasm, wide as the imagination was endless.

"See you around... bean sprout," Lavi was unable to resist slipping on the nickname and at Allen's answering glower he didn't bother to hide his amusement. With a two fingered salute to the General, he turned and started to walk. It was only seven steps to reach the door, eight to step beyond that barrier. He paused just before leaving, hand resting on the edge of the door frame.

It had been seven hours from the time he'd first seen Allen, lying deathly pale on a hospital bed, to the first time he'd spoke to the cursed boy. It had been eight before he'd decided that he was just someone who had picked the short straw and was nothing special.

It had been seven hours that Lavi thought Allen dead, gone down fighting the Earl, and it had been eight hours after that that he was at a party celebrating a hero's return.

He didn't look back as he left the room but he did pause for a second time, out of sight, and find himself tipping his head back in an attempt to force the –_ tearssorrowloss – _away from him. As a Bookman he wasn't supposed to grow attached but he'd found out the hard way that war didn't play by the rules.

He'd broken the rules, too, but maybe that was also okay because it had felt _good _when he did so and he had no _regrets _so maybe everything that had come with it was worth it too.

"Ready?"

Lavi lowered his head to the owner of the gruff voice, spotting the elderly man waiting for him at the end of the corridor. Behind him a door was being battered by the rain, and wind howled around them. It was a cold entrance to a new world and he was beckoned toward it with only two fingers.

He stepped outside the headquarters, stepped outside the person once known as Lavi, stepped outside the place that he'd grown to know as _home,_ and his heart hadn't felt so broken for a long time.

"As far as I can tell, there hasn't..."

Life would go on and with it so would Bookman Junior. Such was the Bookman way, after all.

But maybe that was okay, because he had the memories to keep him company and he knew he'd never forget the cursed boy who'd been a tad too short for his age with the appetite of a pig.

But maybe that was okay, too.

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**A/N: **I'd been meaning to write a one-shot for ages and the thought of what would happen when Lavi left had been drifting around for awhile. I really like the friendship between Allen and Lavi, and so this came to be. It's short, a bit shorter than I like, but I still like the actual story. Or drabble, maybe, I'm not too sure. Hope you enjoyed!


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